


Stories from the Bedroom Closet

by lilithiumwords



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack, Crack Pairings, F/M, Food Kink, Food Sex, Gen, Humor, Inappropriate Use of Chocolate, Inappropriate Use of Icing, Kinky, Loaded with Slashy Hints, M/M, Other, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sexual Humor, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tumblr Prompt, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of the random crack drabbles you could ever want. Some are NSFW, some are just ridiculous, and all of them are so much fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bard and the Spider, a Love Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a spider met Bard, a love story occurred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is theaspetta's fault.

In the beginning, there was Bard. He was amazing, and gorgeous, and a stud, and he had a hell of a time getting the women to stay away from him (and many of the men, too, not to mention the elves and even some curious dwarves).

But then one day, he met a spider in the woods, and the spider fell in love with him. She followed him to town and watched him, and she began to hate the women who adored him and the men who stood very close to him. So she began to plot.

First she poisoned the women, and then she went after the men. Then when Elves came to town and spent long evenings comparing bow lengths with him, she followed them home and cut off their long pretty shining locks. No Dwarves came, but that was alright with her, because she didn't like the taste of Dwarf anyway.

Now her Bard was alone, and so one night she went to him. While he was at the tavern, she crawled into his bed and waited, until at last he came home and entered his room.

When Bard looked upon her in his bed, he gave a shout.

And then she ate him.

The end.


	2. Frerin and Thorin, Not a Love Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frerin and Thorin were the best of brothers -- until they met Bilbo Baggins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can blame theaspetta for this, too.

In the beginning, there was Frerin.

He was supposed to die in the Battle of Azanulbizar, but fanon decided that he was too precious to allow to die according to canon, so they resurrected him and made him keeper of the map, since Thorin was terrible at directions and Frerin had a good eye for distances.

Frerin was always clever, and he was gorgeous, with long flowing golden locks and thick braids and a grand mustache that everyone wanted to twink, but nobody could get close enough because Thorin was always with him, and Thorin usually had an impressive brood going on, and nobody wanted to interrupt Thorin’s broods, except Dís who could out-scowl him anyday.

The point is, Frerin was amazing, and he had amazing siblings who were his pride and joy, for all that he was the middle child, and once in their youth Thorin locked him in a closet, and Dís once painted him Durin blue, but that was all in the past, wasn’t it?

But all of that changed the day the fire nation — wait, which fandom are we in again? Right, right.

But all of that changed the day Frerin met Bilbo Baggins.

Bilbo Baggins was a clever, BAMF, gorgeous, and unusually snarky Hobbit who could be attributed with many devious acts, mostly having to do with terrorizing Lobelia Sackville-Baggins and making flirty motions with his gardener Holman Greenhand. He was quite dismayed when fourteen dwarves barged into his lovely little Hobbit home, and he expressed his displeasure thoroughly and with obvious derision — but none of said Dwarves seemed to notice.

Except Frerin, who fell in love with Bilbo upon first sight.

Sadly, so did Thorin.

And so the brothers’ long and deep bond was torn apart in their subtle, quiet, and vicious battle against each other, under the guise of a quest, with their true goal as to earn Bilbo’s respect, love, and steaming Hobbity kisses.

Their brotherly love turned into antagonistic hatred, and the two brothers fought, again and again, arguing and brooding and storming around majestically.

Then Bilbo Baggins broke both their hearts when he went and fell in love with Bofur.

Then Frerin and Thorin both died in the Battle of the Five Armies.

The end.


	3. Kíli and Bolg, a Love Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Kíli was a lad, he met an Orc named Bolg, and the rest -- as they say -- is history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In fact you can blame theaspetta for just about all of these, really.

In the beginning, there was Kíli, the most precious baby Dwarf that ever did cross the beautiful lands of Middle Earth. He had a scrappy beard like a Man and carried a bow like an Elf, and he was as excitable as a Hobbit child, but he was 100% Dwarf, definitely, there was no way his father was even remotely related to any of those races, not at all.

Kíli lived with his protective and quite handsome older brother Fíli, but one day they had a fight, and Kíli stormed off to go hunting for his own glory-battles, never mind that Thorin would have his head the second he came home, and Frerin-who-had-not-died-as-he-should-have would have his head again after Thorin was done with him.

But Kíli did not care, and he disappeared into the wilderness with a grand plan, dreaming of the mighty trolls and orcs he would destroy and bring back to his family as trophies, never realizing that he would be unable to drag anything back, mostly because it would smell too much and invite all of the forest’s darkest and most blood-thirsty creatures to follow him around.

But Kíli was precious and something of an idiot, and such clever thoughts did not come to him naturally, unlike his brilliant mother. At least Fíli was not much better, or so Kíli told himself.

One day, while Kíli was camping in one of the coldest parts of the forest, avoiding some Rangers who were quite interested in his scrappy beard, the young Dwarf ran into what must have been the most handsome and mysterious of Orcs: Bolg, son of Azog the Defiler, the Orc who had killed Kíli’s grandfather.

But Kíli did not realize this, and he would be glad for it, as Bolg was quite studly and glorious in his Orc masculinity. He also had an impressive beard, something that Kíli envied, for all that it was a curious shade of red.

(Blood, but poor Kíli, precious baby that he is, would never realize this.)

Orc and Dwarf surveyed each other. Kíli, the most beautiful and precious of Dwarf princes, and Bolg, a prince in his own right and even more of a stud than his father.

It was love at first sight.

For Bolg, that is, because Kíli retched as soon as he saw Bolg, and Bolg immediately felt despair, for the one person he had chosen to love, was the one person who hated him the most.

Then Kíli attacked Bolg, and Bolg attacked him back, and he bested Kíli and dragged him off into the woods to do terrible things to him.

Kíli survived, because he is a precious baby and his death is already slated for a specific date (Battle of the Five Armies, near the end of November, 2941 — but who cares about that?). And Bolg survived, because he had to go running back to his father, to despair about pretty Dwarves, and Azog would surely understand, having loved a pretty Dwarf once or twice in his lifetime.

Years later, they met again at the Battle of Five Armies. In the name of love, Bolg killed Kíli, as our precious baby was defending his majestic uncle. Fíli went insane and killed Bolg, but then he died as well defending Thorin. Frerin died too, because he was supposed to die a long time ago. And Thorin died, because that’s how canon goes, except in 90% of stories where he miraculously survives.

Except in this story, everyone died.

The end.


	4. Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo always wanted to try this, ever since he heard about it from one of his cousins. Good thing he has Thorin wrapped around his little finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this](http://www.incrediblethings.com/food/chocolate-hats-for-your-dingaling/) (NSFW). For theaspetta, who triple dog dared me.
> 
> Explicit content ahead.

Bilbo knelt in front of Thorin’s chair, hands lightly resting on Thorin’s knees as he took in the admittedly hilarious, but sorely tempting, visage in front of him.

Thorin’s cock hung before him, long but not completely hard, and at the end of it was a rounded piece of chocolate, perfectly curved to cover the head completely, like a little Dwarven helmet.

Bilbo’s lips twitched.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Thorin growled, but he did not move, just as Bilbo had requested. He was naked, as Bilbo had asked, and he had not destroyed the chocolate that Bilbo had specifically made just for this occasion. Bilbo was rather proud of his surly Dwarf king for not storming out of the room the moment Bilbo had explained what the chocolate was for.

“I’m not laughing,” Bilbo said mildly, but he was definitely smirking when he reached up to grasp Thorin’s sex, pumping it slowly as his thumb flicked against the chocolate. Thorin inhaled tightly, but his hips held still, and Bilbo let his expression relax into a smile when he looked up.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” he murmured, and Thorin’s gaze softened — but then Bilbo leaned back down and sucked the chocolate into his mouth, running his tongue over the hot skin beneath the edge of it, and Thorin roared a strangled curse.

Bilbo rather enjoyed his treat, and despite his trepidation, there was no denying that Thorin enjoyed the experience as well, at the end.

Chocolate was definitely his favorite dessert.


	5. The One Time Bilbo Bakes for his Cousin’s Tea Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...will forever be the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For kaavyawriting, who is just as bad as theaspetta.

It isn’t as if Bilbo has ever wanted to bake the popular little desserts that will be devoured with glee at Amaranth’s little party the next night. Nor has he ever had the need, really, considering he has never gotten married, nor hosted a girls-only party, nor even cared to attend one. He isn’t generally allowed at such parties, which are all the fashion among the young lady Hobbits of the Shire, but Amaranth praised his baking skills profusely and begged him to bake her something special for her first girl party, and who was Bilbo to say no to a Brandybuck? Then Rory, the brat that he is, promptly suggested the _cakes_.

Not just any cakes, but _those cakes_.

The little cakes carefully baked into perfect mounds, that were then topped with curls of sugary cream shaped into tiny, delicate penises. The cake itself is flavored rather deliciously with almond and a bit of cherry juice. Colored a deep, rosy pink, of course, because what other color would they be?

 _This is all Rory’s fault,_ Bilbo thinks desperately as he stares down at the tray of perfect cakes.

Forty little penises made of icing stare back at him.

How could he have agreed to this? But Rory only has to crook his finger, and Bilbo will do anything he says. Such is the downfall of having a favorite cousin who is also your best friend.

Bilbo twitches with the effort not to throw all of the cakes out into the garden. But no, if Holman found them, Bilbo would never hear the end of it, so Bilbo breathes in slowly and covers them carefully. Then he backs out of the pantry and decides to have a smoke outside.

The resulting conversation by his mailbox, with a rather frustrating Wizard, makes Bilbo forget completely about the penis cakes for the rest of the day.

At least until that night, when thirteen Dwarves and one Wizard crash into his house and begin to eat everything he owns.

Bilbo does his very best not to lose his temper, but it is so very difficult when twelve of the most ridiculous Dwarves in existence are running about tossing his Mother’s precious plates at each other, and Bilbo is close to crying, because his pantry is a mess even though the plates are now clean, and miraculously none of them have broken, but it doesn’t change the fact that _there are Dwarves in his house_.

Deep breaths, Baggins.

Even the thirteenth Dwarf, who has very blue eyes and a lovely nose, is not enough to avert Bilbo’s wrath, particularly when they pull out some insane contract that will most assuredly result in Bilbo’s death, or at the very least dismemberment. Bilbo faints very quickly after that, and soon he is fuming and glaring as he tucks himself into an armchair with a cup of tea and the only bit of food left in his pantry: the prized cake that he baked for Amaranth, but would no doubt have to make again, as it looks like every Dwarf in his house is eating the cakes.

Balls to them, because they are eating tiny penises made of icing.

Bilbo does not quite realize what this means, and he argues with Gandalf about this ridiculous venture until he is blue in the face and Gandalf only looks at him with a sad shake of the head. So Bilbo says no, and he starts to eat the cake with a huff, and then he realizes what he is eating.

Then he realizes what the rest of the Company is eating.

 _Oh no,_ Bilbo thinks with dread, as he watches a spoonful of penis cake disappear into Thorin Oakenshield’s mouth. There are murmurs as the Dwarves admire his baking, then inhalations of surprise, but Bilbo is too shocked to notice them.

He wants to crawl under his chair when he sees Thorin Oakenshield look down at the cake, really look at it. The slow widening of those blue eyes would have been quite humorous, if Bilbo was not desperately trying to blend with his upholstery.

He nearly breaks down crying when Thorin drops the cake, plate and all. The shattering of his mother’s porcelain propels him out of the chair and down the hall, fleeing past Thorin’s shocked gaze and the interested looks from the others.

Definitely no adventures for Bilbo, _ever_.

Except later that night, after a long and haunting song about a lonely mountain and a dragon who would definitely scoff at his cakes, Bilbo is woken by a soft knock at the door.

“I'm sorry about your plate,” Thorin Oakenshield mutters. "And the cake was good." Then he is gone, leaving Bilbo rather befuddled.

Perhaps he should bake more often?


	6. Fondant au Pénis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and chocolate must never be allowed to mix, even though they create such delicious harmony together -- as well as a varied sex life for Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, theaspetta started this with [that giant fondant penis post](http://amberstarfight.tumblr.com/post/53780903645/everybodyilovedies-thex-kid), but kaavyawriting finished it by prompting me until I cried.
> 
> Mildly related to [Chocolate](http://archiveofourown.org/works/850624/chapters/1626177).

Halfway through the morning, Bilbo arrives at Thorin’s quarters carrying a box and looking rather flustered. He doesn’t tell Thorin what is in the box, but Thorin is duly warned not to look into it while Bilbo makes a quick run to the kitchens, just for a pick-me-up, since he missed elevensies while he was shopping. Thorin immediately tries to look in the box as soon as the door closes, but then it swings open again and Bilbo shakes his finger rather imperiously for someone who has never belonged to a regal line.

"Don’t you dare disturb that box, Thorin Oakenshield! I don’t want it melting!" Bilbo fumes, but then he leaves again, and Thorin is left bewildered.

What would melt in a box? _Oh._

Thorin figures it is some sort of special dessert that Bilbo stood in a very long line for, which has happened before, and the last time Thorin accidentally ate such a dessert, he was forced to sleep outside of his own quarters for a week.

(The time before that, Bilbo put a crown of chocolate on him and sucked his brains out, but Thorin tries to forget that day as much as possible, so it did not occur to him this time.)

So Thorin covers the box with a doily and goes to find where he put that map.

~

The next time Thorin thinks of the box, it is much later that night, when he has finished all of his meetings and given various Dwarves proper punishments for breaking this law or ruining that contract or making off with so and so’s war hammer. The last, strangely enough, was Nori, and he was smirking when Dwalin dragged him off, but Thorin firmly does not think of such things as he shrugs off his armor and lays his axe on its stand.

Bilbo is nowhere to be found, of course, but his Halfling tends to appear just as Thorin really needs him, so Thorin goes to take care of his ablutions before he retires to his room.

There, he finds his little Hobbit sitting in the middle of the bed, naked as the day he was born, the box sitting between his legs and blocking what Thorin most wants to see.

Thorin stands in the doorway and stares for a moment, but Bilbo does nothing more than smile enigmatically, and that could mean anything from ‘Thorin is in trouble’ to ‘we’re about to have very hot sex.’

Thorin hopes it’s the latter. He approaches the bed and leans down to kiss Bilbo, who returns it deeply.

“I’ve got something for you,” Bilbo murmurs, and Thorin glances down at the box, a little wary.

“For… right now?” Thorin asks hesitantly, and Bilbo’s lips quirk up, making Thorin want to kiss him again, but Bilbo evades him and pushes the box forward, pulling the lid open.

“Look at it,” Bilbo breathes, obviously enraptured. “They made it with that dark chocolate that Thranduil always buys so much of, he missed one of the packages from the traders from the east and I found it instead. Someone was advertising these, and it has _orange-flavored filling_ , Thorin, how is that not perfect? They called the filling something strange but I think it’s a type of icing. I’m so glad it didn’t melt!”

Thorin does look, but he does not agree that it looks delicious. It looks like a cock made of chocolate. Not a small cock, either — no, this looks like it must belong to a very hefty Dwarf, and Thorin wonders how they made the mold, if they contracted one of his Dwarves, if this was related to that tiny little shop he had a few complaints about last week, that sold cocks made of iron and bronze.

_Focus, Thorin._

He is suddenly reminded of the time that Bilbo brought home a cup made of chocolate that he used to make Thorin completely mindless. And damn if that hadn’t followed with the most interesting sex Thorin had ever had.

_Not helping._

“Uh,” Thorin says helpfully, and a slow smirk spreads over that devious mouth.

“I was hoping to share it with you,” Bilbo says softly, and Thorin realizes that he is half-hard, just thinking about what Bilbo does for him when Thorin allows him to bring food into their bed.

“Well,” Thorin tries, but his brain falters to a stop when Bilbo picks up the chocolate penis and slowly licks it, dark eyes never breaking with Thorin’s suddenly rapt stare.

 _Damn it all,_ Thorin thinks, because the last time they did anything with chocolate, it stained the sheets and the Dwarf who did his laundry gave him funny looks for a week. But he cannot resist leaning down and capturing that mouth in a kiss, tasting the chocolate and a hint of citrus, wondering if Bilbo would ever cease to surprise him.


	7. The Tale of Bard the Elf-Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard, the descendant of Girion, Lord of Dale, likes Elves and archery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For theaspetta.

When Bard was a lad, his mother told him long tales about Girion, who was Bard’s ancestor and the last great Lord of Dale.

He learned about Girion’s great skill with a bow (not that it did any good against a certain dragon). He learned about Girion’s wife and son who fled down a river and somehow didn’t die horribly when everybody else did. He learned about a necklace of five hundred emeralds, though he wondered how on earth his ancestor had managed to walk around wearing five hundred emeralds without being gutted immediately.

What he did not learn about was Girion’s great and enthusiastic love of Elves. Nor did he learn where Girion had gained such skill with a bow: the young prince of Mirkwood, Legolas.

Though Bard learned these things later, when he discovered a fair-haired Elf lurking about his camp one night while he was tracking a spider through Mirkwood.

(The spider in question had poisoned several women in Laketown, so Bard dutifully went hunting for it. He never found the spider, but he felt like he was being watched the entire time, which did nothing for his insomnia.)

The Elf in question was very tall with long straight hair and big blue eyes strangely lined in dark kohl. Bard found him hiding behind a tree, and he stared blankly at the Elf for the longest time, until the Elf snapped,

“Why do you lurk in my woods, Man?”

“Why do you lurk outside my camp, Elf?” Bard responded wryly, and he enjoyed how the Elf flushed with embarrassment. Then the Elf threatened him with dismemberment and leapt away into the night.

Bard was smitten. He did not tell anybody, though, because lately everybody whom he flirted with ended up dead, poisoned, or lacking certain limbs. Instead Bard went hunting often, and he began running into the Elf each time, to the point that after a while the Elf stopped threatening him and merely glared whenever they crossed paths.

Bard was fortunate enough one day to watch the Elf hunt. The Elf used a bow, much longer than Bard’s own bow (fashioned after the legend of his ancestor Girion), and when he managed to catch the Elf again, he questioned how the Elf had made his bow and what sorts of trees he liked to use to bend into the weapon. They got into a long conversation, that ended with Bard challenging the Elf to an archery contests.

As he made his shots, the Elf told him that archery was an ancient art and that Bard was terrible at it.

Bard proceeded to rip every arrow the Elf let loose down the middle with his own perfect shots.

The Elf did not insult his archery after that. Instead, he stared at Bard with wide eyes and told him that his name was Legolas.

Bard made to flirt with him, but Legolas panicked and leapt away again, and Bard was left nursing a sore pride and a gleeful idea of how to romance the Elf next time.

Except the next time he saw Legolas, it was after a certain party of Dwarves invaded his town, and there was a war going on, and everyone was dying.

But Bard and Legolas did not die, and they had an unspoken contest during the war of how many Orcs they shot, and afterwards, Bard managed to convince Legolas to stay with him.

Once they were alone, he proceeded to rip Legolas’ clothes off, and they had a quite lovely evening of hot sex.

Afterwards, they lay together and teasingly compared bow lengths, but Bard was very content, at least until Legolas sighed,

“You’re just like Girion, you know,” into his ear.

Bard kicked the Elf out and would not speak to him after that, even though Legolas stayed at the door and begged and wheedled and whined and told him all sorts of things about Girion that Bard Did Not Want To Know.

Strangely, spiders came and chased Legolas away, and at last Bard had some peace. He would become King of Dale, better than _Lord of Dale_ anyway and he would find a nice wife to settle down with and have lots of children, and his mother would be proud, and he would never, ever think of Girion and Legolas ever again.

Or that was the plan, until Bard was eaten by a spider.


	8. Father and Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bain son of Bard is ready to grow up, but his father thinks otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because you said to me, "Tell me a story."

Once upon a time, there was a man named Bard, and he had a son named Bain. Bard adored his son and did everything he could to protect his precious child and keep him safe.

Bain wanted to be tall and strong like his father, so one night he wished to be taller. He waited the next day, and nothing happened, so he waited another day, but still nothing happened. A week went by, and nothing outside of the ordinary happened to Bain.

But one week after his wish, on a morning when Bard wasn’t looking, Bain grew nine inches and could reach Bard’s shoulder, which pleased the boy greatly. It did not please Bard nearly as much, as he could no longer lift his son and throw him into the air and revel in Bain’s laughter.

"What has happened?" Bard asked.

"I wished to be tall," Bain replied.

"Why would you wish that?" Bard asked.

"I wished to be tall and strong like you," Bain replied.

"Why would you rush to grow up and be like me?" Bard asked.

"I want to be just like you, for you are my father and the most important person in my life," Bain replied.

Bard could not deny how proud he felt of his son. "I want you to be young and happy and carefree, my son, because you are the most important person in my life."

"Father," Bain said, and then he gave a little shout.

Before Bard’s very eyes, Bain shrunk nine inches. He looked at himself in shock, and he pouted and was very unhappy to be short again. Bard laughed and hugged him, and he said to his son, “You will be tall and strong again in time. Until then, be young and carefree, and enjoy the time you have as a child."

"If I must," Bain sighed, but then he smiled as his father picked him up and threw him into the air, laughing. He was young and carefree, and he could wait until he was older and taller and stronger. He looked forward to the day he could look his father in the eye without any height between them.

The end.


	9. Radagast and Beorn, a Love Snippet

Three afternoons later, Radagast strode into Beorn's garden with a hurried greeting to the goats and an offended look from the nearest sheep. "Beorn! Beorn, my dear boy, where are you?"

The tall, shirtless Northman walked out of a shed of wood and frowned at the state of the Istari. "Radagast. You look upset."

Radagast sighed deeply and hurried over to Beorn, lifting his arms with a huff. "I haven't seen you in three weeks, and this is how you greet me? Did you see my friend Gandalf? Gandalf the Grey? I told him about you!"

Beorn adopted a bored expression, but he obligingly leaned over and picked up Radagast as if he weighed nothing, cuddling him close. "Never heard of him, I told him," he said, smirking slightly, which made Radagast frown outright.

"Beorn! You didn't," he despaired, and Beorn muttered.

"Brought thirteen Dwarves and a Halfling into my house without introductions. He was rude."

"Well, he is a bit forward at times --"

"I didn't like him."

"There's no reason to be huffy about it --"

"I care little for grey Wizards or tales of them, and I am not going to huff." They exchanged a long, determined stare, before Beorn continued roughly, "I have not seen you in three weeks. Let me take care of you."

Radagast almost gave in. "Well, that does sound nice -- no! We have to get the Eagles! There's a war, Beorn, we've got to go fight! Come now, put me down, we've got things to do!"

Beorn looked quite affronted at not getting what he wanted, but he did as Radagast asked, anyway. Even if he had to ride an Eagle for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For kaavyawriting, who prompted Radagast/Beorn. You're welcome.


	10. Thorin Oakenshaft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is tumblr's fault

"And may I present the leader of our company, Thorin Oakens—"

"OH! You’re Thorin Oakenshaft!" Bilbo says excitedly, his face flushing pleasantly. Thorin’s smile freezes on his handsome face, while the dwarves look bewildered at the mistake and Gandalf gapes.

"You must have me confused with someone else," Thorin says stiffly.

"Oh, no, I’m very certain!" Bilbo beams. "Thorin Oakenshaft! I’ve heard all about you at the Green Dragon. The ladies and lasses love you alike! With those stones of yours, not to mention the _shaft_ ," he giggles for a moment.

Thorin has lost his smile completely. Certain members of the company look as if they do not believe their ears. Others are very, very confused. Gandalf might be smiling, or he might be frowning very deeply.

"My little acorns just cannot compare. I had no idea you did parties!" Bilbo continues, then blushes brilliantly. "Um, not that I approve of this party, it was kind of a surprise… but if _Thorin Oakenshaft_ is involved, well… I’ve always been a fan,” he whispers to Thorin’s boots.

A moment later, Thorin has grabbed Bilbo and is dragging him down the hall, and they end up in a closet together with the door firmly shut.

The dwarves crowd around, but the whispering within the closet cannot be discerned, especially with the loud thumps every now and then. Gandalf is alarmed by the sudden kidnapping of his hobbit, and he bangs his staff on the closet door.

"Thorin! Bilbo! Whatever are you doing in there?" he cries.

The door opens. Thorin walks out with his head held high, and he walks all the way down the hall to the dining room without a single dwarf stopping him. Bilbo steps out a moment later, looking very wide-eyed and possibly shell-shocked.

"Lovely chap, that Thorin Oakenshield,” he tells the company in a high voice, and then he refuses to say another word no matter how much they pester him.


	11. Courtship, in the Style of a Thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [@kaavyawriting](http://kaavyawriting.tumblr.com/) prompted: Thorin/Bilbo, thief-related courtship

Thorin stares down at the box, then at his closed, locked door, then back at the box. It is a small thing, wrapped in Durin blue and silver, and it matches the five other boxes he has received every morning this week. He narrows his eyes, irritated at the thief -- and what kind of thief is this person, to sneak into a king's room and not take a single treasure, but leave one instead?

Grumbling, Thorin tears off the ribbon and looks inside. This morning, the gift is an acorn, bronzed and laid in silk. When he lifts it out of the box, he finds it is attached to a chain, fine work, which should be easy to source, if he has one of his guards go to the forges to see if anyone has made an identical order. They cannot refuse the king, after all.

He glares down at the acorn, then grudgingly puts it around his neck. A gift should be appreciated, after all.

The first gift, a flower, had been odd but set on a table in a little glass vase. The next gift, a little blot of weed, the same kind Thorin has smoked for years. He had it tested anyway for poison, but the weed had been safe to enjoy. The third gift went much the same as the second, chocolate that could have been poisoned, and Thorin had gotten none of it, which had irritated him beyond reason when the dwarf who tried it didn't die. The fourth gift, at least, had been a little better -- a refill of ink, the deepest blue that one could dye, which had added a little flair to his signatures for the day. The last gift was a small bead for his hair, with a little red gem in the gold. The preferred colors of his suitor, likely.

Thorin wonders what he will receive tomorrow. He wants to stay awake for it and catch this thief, who must have light feet indeed to sneak past the dozens of guards set up outside his rooms. Maybe a secret passage? But Thorin knows these halls inside and out -- there is little in the way of secrets that he does not know. No, he has no idea how the thief arrives or leaves, and it irritates him beyond measure, that he cannot catch this person.

Especially when he is being _courted_. It is ridiculous. That Dwalin has kept it secret is relief enough -- imagine if his sister, let alone his nephews, caught wind of this nonsense.

Thorin would never live it down.


	12. The Final Frontier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [@one-go-alone](http://one-go-alone.tumblr.com/): Bagginshield, Space!AU?

"Don't you think you're standing a little too close to the window?" grumbles an irritated voice, and Thorin turns to stare impassively at his uninvited guest. The small Hobbit shoots the window, currently overlooking the distant Rhovanian nebula, a rather dirty look that Thorin doesn't feel it deserves. Beyond that nebula is the Lonely Planet, Erebor, his home – his true home, and Thorin misses it sorely.

"The window hasn't done me any harm today," Thorin replies, keeping his amusement out of his voice. It wouldn't do to upset their Burglar again, especially about his deep and unabiding hatred of everything deep space.

Why he agreed to join Thorin's quest, which has taken them far beyond the tiny Shire planet and will take them even further, is anyone's guess.

"Oh, not today," mutters Bilbo, standing a good twenty feet from the window's edge. Thorin wonders if he might be allergic to space. He knows that Hobbits are an agricultural sort, while his own Dwarven race prefers mining and smithing, and truthfully, he rarely sees Hobbits traveling about the space ports, fewer still shopping in intergalactic hubs. Nearly all of them prefer to remain on their pretty but useless planet.

The Shire is nothing like Erebor, after all. Though Thorin can admire it a little, at least, for producing Bilbo. Not that he will tell Bilbo that.

"I haven't given it the chance yet," Thorin says, his lips twitching a little, and he smoothes his expression before Bilbo can notice the smirk.

Bilbo huffs, his keen gaze shifting from the dreaded window to Thorin, and something must set him off, because he abruptly turns pink. "W-well, I suppose if you haven't yet, there's still time to save you. Why don't you have breakfast with me instead?" Bilbo all but throws out, his face turning even pinker as the words hang between them, an obvious invitation.

Thorin thinks of Bilbo's expression when he rushed to defend Thorin from Azog, weeks ago. He thinks of that first dazzled look Bilbo wore when Thorin stepped into his tiny smial, an uninvited guest, but one welcomed all the same.

His own cheeks might go a little pink, too, but at least Thorin has a beard to hide it.

"If you're offering," Thorin says slowly, turning his back on the window and walking to Bilbo's side. On a whim, he offers his arm, thinking a few gallant court manners would go a long way with someone as fussy as Bilbo Baggins.

Thorin is rewarded with Bilbo's smile.


	13. the trouble with bandwidth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> amberstarfight: Thorin getting ticked bc he’s trying to watch Netflix and it’s the last episode of the season but the gd internet keeps going out and it’s on a shared neighborhood and there’s only one light on and he stomps over and bangs on the door and Bilbo answers, flushed and trying to make his clothes look baggier, and  
> kaavyawriting: …  
> amberstarfight: I mean what

On the screen, a bright light silhoettes the main character, and she opens her mouth to say --

Nothing, because the image disappears, replaced by Thorin's least favorite words:

_There is a problem connecting to Netflix. Please try again later (1011). Follow your troubleshooting..._

"Fucking great," Thorin growls, tempted to throw the remote, but he already broke one this month and he's kind of low on cash. The internet goes out far, far too often for his mental state, and Thorin has had it.

He really has, so he stands up and stalks to the door, grabbing his jacket to brace himself against the icy wind.

Someone, somewhere, is using too much bandwidth.

The internet for his neighborhood only has so much bandwidth, because his service provider refuses to upgrade and doesn't care that his internet goes out frequently whenever too many people are using it. Thorin would switch, but some city ordinance twenty years ago gave the company a monopoly on his area, and the only way he will get better internet is by illegal means, which defeats the purpose of being on the police force, or moving, which is too expensive for him right now.

So he suffers. Except tonight, because he _needs_ to see that episode, he _has_ to know what's going to happen! It's the goddamn series finale, and he's going out of town tomorrow after work and won't be able to see it for two weeks!

It's late, which means that most of the usual culprits are asleep. Old Man Gandalf, who plays some online PC game like his nephews do, is out of town, and the Took kids were sent to bed already. That leaves...

It must be that new fellow who moved in two doors down. He must be downloading something huge. Asshole. Hardly been here a week and already he's ruining Thorin's life!

Thorin wastes no time in knocking on #404, gritting his teeth and glaring down at the light beneath the door. He waits, his temper broiling more and more into a frenzy with each passing moment, and when no one answers, he bangs again, this time adding a few choice words.

"Open the fuck up, you asshole, I'm not missing the season finale because you've gone and found a new porn si--"

The door opens and a short, curly-haired man immediately shushes Thorin, his eyes widen and his cheeks flushed. Thorin's jaw snaps shut and his temper all but vanishes, because he realizes three very important things:

1\. The man is disheveled, as if he rushed to put on clothes, and is clearly trying to bunch his robe over his crotch.  
2\. The man is out of breath, cheeks flushed, either from running to the door, or from engaging in other activities.  
3\. The man is extremely attractive -- and aroused as fuck.

"Ah," Thorin says after a moment, raising an eyebrow. "So you did find a porn site. You know you don't have to download everything to enjoy it, right? Or fucking wait till four in the morning like a normal person."

His new neighbor -- Bilbo Baggins, if Thorin remembers correctly -- stiffens with affront, and Thorin is shocked to find his scowl absolutely beautiful. He is riveted.

"How dare you -- I would never, ever download such filth! Now see here," fumes Bilbo, and that's where Thorin has to stop this, because he's not an idiot.

"Right, so that's nothing serious, is it?" Thorin asks dryly, jabbing his thumb at the impressive tent beneath Bilbo's robe. Bilbo stops speaking suddenly, staring at him with wide eyes, and his face turns an impressive scarlet.

Thorin ignores the small voice telling him to run away, quickly, before he ends up in court for stalking, and leans forward with a smirk. "Shall I help you with that?"

Bilbo lets out a noise not unlike a squeak, his shocked stare on Thorin's face. Then he gives him an obvious once over, his blush never fading, and finally steps back, waving a hand quickly.

"If -- if you're offering."

Thorin can't believe his luck. He doesn't waste any time entering Bilbo's flat, nor another moment before he catches Bilbo's face in his hands and kisses him, the high energy from his earlier rage shifting easily into lust.


	14. long day's work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [@gwydions](http://gwydions.tumblr.com): Hello. I've had a 16 hours working day and it was living hell. May I prompt you a teeny tiny bagginshield? Something about Bilbo having shitty day at his work and Thorin doing his best to care for him? Pretty pretty please?

After dragging himself into the house, Bilbo makes it as far as his armchair before he collapses. He spends the next three minutes sitting alone, trying not to think about the dishes he had piled up, the laundry he needs to do for tomorrow, and the shower he really wants to take. His stomach rumbles a little, and Bilbo lets out a pathetically small whine, wanting everything just to fade away.

"Bilbo? You're home late," Thorin yawns from the hallway, and Bilbo lifts his head wearily, smiling a little at the sight of Thorin wearing only a sagging pair of pajamas, his great crown of hair in a mess. What a lovely sight after such a long day.

"I'm sorry I woke you, dear," Bilbo says tiredly, and Thorin shakes his head, crossing the room to sit on the ottoman at Bilbo's feet. Wordlessly, he slides off Bilbo's shoes and settles his feet in his lap, beginning to massage them. Bilbo's moan is weak with near-delirium.

"Fuck me with a spoon," he says in one breath, and Thorin chuckles.

"Perhaps not a spoon, but that can come later. I thought you would be home earlier," he chides gently. Bilbo slumps a little, sulking.

"I was supposed to be, you know. Then Filibert Bolger came in with three reports that needed to be done, and he left them on my desk for me to deal with. I couldn't... I had to finish them," he says feebly, to Thorin's subtle frown. He knows Thorin doesn't approve when his coworkers bully him into doing their work. He is pretty sure that if Thorin could get away with it, he would take Orcrist to Bilbo's company and threaten the lot of them -- which is why Bilbo is very glad that Thorin works on the other side of town.

"Mm. You should come to bed," is all Thorin says, and Bilbo shakes his head.

"The dishes," he starts.

"Already done," Thorin replies, digging his thumb above Bilbo's heel. Bilbo shudders a little, then stares.

"The laundry?" he ventures hesitantly.

"Did that too," Thorin says with a small smirk, which makes Bilbo worry briefly that he has caused trouble, such as adding too much detergent again -- but the house is clear of bubbles.

"I need to wash up," Bilbo hedges, and Thorin snorts softly.

"I can draw you a bath while I heat up your dinner." His smirk turns into a pleased grin when Bilbo's stomach rumbles agreeably, making Bilbo turn a little pink, but more than anything he is relieved that all of his domestic duties are already handled. He smiles at Thorin, softening.

"What would I do without you?" Bilbo wonders.

Thorin rolls his eyes. "Everything, probably. Now up, before I toss you over my shoulder and treat the neighbors to another rendition of Caveman Thorin."

"He is very popular," Bilbo replies, cheeky as can be, then squawks when Thorin does just as promised.


	15. A Smith's Love Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [@emsiecat](http://emsiecat.tumblr.com/): I'd love to request some Bagginshield if that's okay. How about some good ol' Blacksmith Thorin and Bilbo admiring his work and other things about him :3 Thank you! Your writing is lovely by the way.

That one Hobbit in the green waistcoat has walked past his smith three times now. Thorin rolls his eyes a little when the fourth pass starts, glancing at the sun that skims the horizon, and sighs. He can feel the Hobbit's eyes on him, so he stretches his shoulders with a low groan, inwardly smirking when he hears the Hobbit stumble. Serves the little tart right.

"Oh!" the Hobbit, one Bilbo Baggins and the source of Thorin's consternation, says softly. His big eyes and thick curls, not to mention his soft belly and turned up nose, do wonders for Thorin's interest.

He still has an order to finish. Either Mr. Baggins will skedaddle back to his little hole, where he will daydream about Thorin in a most unhobbit-like manner, or he will stay and stare. Thorin is betting on the latter.

With that in mind, Thorin reaches down to grasp a rod of metal to begin to heat it up. Just as he suspected, Bilbo nears his counter and leans against it, watching him. Thorin doesn't bother sparing him a glance, not wanting the distraction, instead picking up his hammer to begin working.

He loses himself in the work. A set of silverware, with acorns on the handles. He knows who made the order -- the very same Hobbit who is staring at him with wide eyes, his mouth partly open with desire. Thorin wonders what the Hobbit must see, because his shirt is drenched and sticking to his back, his hair a complete wreck. He looks nothing like a Dwarven King -- just a blacksmith.

At one point, Bilbo leaves for a short while, but he returns with a basket that he sets on the counter. Thorin pays him no mind.

A while later, Thorin sets the silverware into a box and ties with a simple ribbon, wiping his face and looking up at Bilbo. The Hobbit smiles at him, a little shy, and earnest enough that Thorin can't help but smile a little. That seems to stop Bilbo from saying anything -- instead he pushes the basket across the counter.

"For, um, since you were working so late," Bilbo says finally, blushing to the tips of his pointed ears. Thorin stares a little, then shakes himself and goes to investigate the basket.

It is full of food. Two tankards of ale from the pub down the street, a hefty meat pie that will do well to fill his belly, and a few glistening red apples, the same color as Bilbo's upturned lips. Instead of starting his meal, Thorin leans across the counter to sneak a kiss, stealing Bilbo's breath at the same time.


End file.
